Just One More
by LilBabyCoco
Summary: Do you remember what happened last night? CM.


Authors Note: Set mid season 5. Monica and Chandler never hooked up in London. Ross divorced Emily, Joey and Phoebe are both single, and Rachel is in Ohio in a conference.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, though I have no objections to owning Courteney.

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A small, delicate figure lay outstretched on the comfortable couch centralized in the usually organized apartment, which was now in complete disarray from the party that had ended a couple of hours before. The voice inside her head telling her to tidy up this mess was having a competition with her whining, hyperactive 29 year-old neighbour, intent on finding the last of the alcohol in her apartment.

Completing the perfect impression of a tantrum-throwing two year old, Chandler Bing jumped up and down fiercely, an intensely stubborn expression lining his face.

"Please Mon! Just one more! Just one more beer!"

Monica Geller rubbed her forehead in a mixture of exasperation and exhaustion. She proceeded to sit up, promptly returning to her previous position on the couch.

"Chandler, I said you've had enough! Now common, help me clean all this mess up."

"Mon, it's 1am!"

"So?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"So, can't Rachel do it?"

"Chandler, she's in Ohio."

Chandler grimaced and furrowed his brows, searching for a clever remark. He glanced at Monica, who was having no luck trying to sit up. "Well, you are clearly too drunk to clean up, Mon."

"Chandler, drunkenness does not affect my ability to organise."

"Well, it certainly affects your ability to sit up Mon.," he replied, as Monica once again proceeded to fall flat on her back. She groaned in annoyance and with as much energy as she could muster, finally managed to pull herself into an awkward seating position.

Chandler grinned. "So cummon Mon, one more. It can't hurt us."

"US!" Monica exclaimed. "**_I'm_** not drinking any more. I'm practically dead here, Chandler."

"So? Have one more. It'll knock you out."

Monica glanced at him briefly. "Well I'd hate to think what one more will do to you Chandler."

Chandler was stood haphazardly, playing with his crotch area like a horny 16 year old. He saw Monica staring and quickly removed his hand. Monica giggled gently and his error.

In a moment of silence, Chandlers cerulean eyes searched her hazy blue ones for an answer. Monica sighed loudly.

"Back of the fridge, behind the cheese." He looked at her questioningly. "Rachel's idea. Don't ask." Chandler sniggered and went inside the fridge to find the beers. He found them several seconds later and closed the door.

He clutched onto the two beers and walked over to the couch, where Monica had proceeded to fling her legs out, leaving no room for Chandler to sit.

"Mon?" he asked. She murmured something incomprehensible and snuggled into the couch. He sighed and squeezed himself onto the couch, lifting her head up and resting it onto his lap. For a minute, and a minute only, he studied her face.

God, she was beautiful. That thick raven hair, slightly curled and framing her delicate porcelain face perfectly. So fragile that face, so perfectly formed, although tainted slightly by his drunken vision and her equally drunken state. Those piercing blue eyes, just peeping through from her almost closed eyelids. And those lips. Those soft cherry lips. How he longed to feel them against his own. He stroked her forehead lightly and her eyelids fluttered open.

"You are amazing," he whispered to her semi-sleeping form.

As she slowly sat up, he couldn't help but stare. It's just a crush, Chandler told himself. It'll go away.

"Chandler?" He snapped out of his gaze quickly. "Honey, what's wrong?" She slurped lightly on her beer. Drunk or not, Chandler was completely mesmerised. As he sipped his beer, it instantly went to his head.

The alcohol was talking now.

"Just thinking how sexy you look with that beer…" He grinned.

"Are you trying to seduce me Chandler Bing?" She said, running her tongue round the rim of the bottle, catching a few drops of beer on it, and smirking.

He grinned, his grin slightly lopsided from the drink. "No," he lied.

"Yes you are," she replied. "Well, two can play at that game, mister." She proceeded to clamber onto Chandler; her legs bent either side of his lap.

"Mon, what are you-" he stopped short as she began to dance drunkenly, lifting herself above him, holding her arms above head and thrusting her chest out seductively. It would have been slightly sexier if her eyes weren't fluttering open and shut like something from _The Exorcist._

She looked down on him. "You like that, right?" He couldn't answer; her low cut top directly in front of his eyes. It was like his worst nightmare and best dream ever, combined. Everything he craved was in front of him, in a drunken form. That was all. It was just a bit of fun. She continued to sway seductively, almost falling over onto the couch several times.

But nothing could've prepared him for what happened next. He gazed upwards at her performance, and felt her hips hit his lap occasionally, her enthusiasm kicking in increasingly. He lost slight control and began to dribble, which she noticed. She slowly wiped it away with her thumb, and in a moment of complete unpredictability, dipped downwards and sunk her lips onto his, kissing him passionately.

Chandlers conscience was having a "should I or shouldn't I" battle in his head. Naturally the drink took over and he fell back onto the couch, Monica staring into his eyes, nothing less than an inch between their lips. He could smell her rose scent lingering an inch above him, ran his hand down the side of her bare midriff and thigh and tasted her lips once more.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

A piercing light broke through the window pane of Monica and Rachel's apartment, and light conversation was in play as Monica, Phoebe, Joey and Ross ate breakfast. Compared to the other three, Monica looked a close comparison to death, black rings circling her eyes, her memory blurred, and her stomach aching heavily. She slowly chewed on her cereal. 'What a party,' she thought to herself, and resumed her engagement in the conversation.

Across the hall, an equally affected Chandler had just got dressed and was slowly wandering from his bedroom, making his way across the hall to the active apartment.

He entered, and a chorus of warm greetings invited him in, apart from his best friend Joey, who was shovelling in a huge cooked breakfast on the side counter.

He noticed a spare seat beside Monica, and pulled it out, sitting down slowly.

"Morning," he murmured to her. She smiled and, having a mouthful of food, nodded her response.

Chandler rubbed his head, desperately trying to remember anything of the night before. He remembered a party. He recalled alcohol. And he recalled a woman. _He_ _had slept with a woman! _'How could you forget that, you idiot!' he cursed himself and resumed his thoughts. He rubbed his head hard, trying to picture her.

Slowly, and image formed in his head. Dark hair, pale skin. Very delicate frame. _Very_ drunk. He glanced at a hung-over Monica, who just grinned at him. Chandler gasped, instantly realising the identity of the woman. He got up fast, desperate to exit the apartment.

"Chandler, wait! Where you going?" Monica called on behalf of the group.

"I just...I have to go, okay?"

"But you haven't eaten anything honey!" She replied.

"Don't call me 'honey!' What do you think I am! Your boyfriend?" He left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Joey looked concerned. "I'll go see what's wrong with-"

Monica cut him off. "It's okay Joe, you finish your breakfast, and I'll go check on him."

Joey didn't dispute, and continued to shovel food down his throat.

Monica went across the hall, knocking on the guys' apartment door and entering. Chandler was sat at the counter, head in hands. He turned his head and saw Monica standing there.

"Ok Chandler, what the hell was that!"

"What the hell was what? I wasn't hungry," he stated simply.

"Don't give me that crap Chandler. Something's clearly wrong. What have I done? Have I done something wrong?"

He looked at her for a minute. Of course she hadn't. She was his biggest fantasy. She had touched him, kissed, and made love to him. Of course she'd done nothing wrong. Sadly, he knew she wouldn't think the same. He snapped out of his dream.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't remember what happened," he retorted.

"Chandler I drank at least 15 beers last night. Unless I'm some high-tech super-human, I think my memory would be pretty much impaired." She folded her arms smugly.

"So you don't remember what happened between us?"

"What are you going on about?" she asked.

"Mon, you kissed me. You held me, you took me in your room and you had sex with me. Six times."

Monica looked at him in disbelief. "What! Chandler, I know you are single and slightly lonely, but there's no cause making up bullshit like that." She rubbed his arm sympathetically, and he pulled away instantly.

"You're lying Mon, you are lying. You remember every single second of last night, the lap dance, the kissing, the se-"

Monica looked at him in horror and simply stormed out of the apartment.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

For two days, a rift was clear between Chandler and Monica, but no-one had an idea as to the reason. Chandler was seemingly depressed, denied the truth from the woman he loved.

Loved. He loved her. The minute she stormed out of his apartment that fateful morning, he realised why he became instantly depressed. He remembered every second of their tryst, and could no longer convince himself that it was simply a crush.

Meanwhile, across the hall, Monica was left deep in contemplation. Could she really have lost control that much? Could she really have slept with Chandler? No, no, she couldn't. She had to admit, he **_was_** adorable, he was funny, and she'd always fancied him slightly, but she knew it was unlike her to go and do something so irresponsible, especially with her best friend.

Whatever had happened, she knew she had to sort things out with him. Pretty soon, the gang were going to want answers.

So at 2pm that afternoon, when she knew that Chandler was home, and everyone else was at work, she proceeded to march across the hall.

Chandler was sat in his barcalounger, lazily flicking through the channels. As Monica loudly entered the apartment, he jumped hard and almost fell out of his chair. When he saw it was her, he stood up fast and proceeded to walk away.

Chandler, come back here." He continued to walk away. Monica marched over, grabbed his hand, and pulled him in her direction. "Sit," She ordered. He perched himself on one of the breakfast stools.

"We need to sort this out Chandler," Monica stated simply.

"What is there to sort, Mon? I know you remember what happened, and you won't admit it. End of story." He proceeded to get up, and was pushed down on the stool hard.

"OK, Chandler, you want the truth? I do remember. I remember sitting on your lap, I remember kissing you, I remember looking into your eyes and knowing something more than friendship was happening. I remember you slipping out of my room at 4am, and my heart sinking. And I remember denying the truth to you. I'm sorry. I –"

Chandler cut her off with a light kiss on the lips. "You love me don't you," he said, resting his forehead against hers. She nodded shyly.

"Always have really," she admitted, grinning.

"Ditto," he replied, returning the facial expression. He kissed her once more, and mouthed the three words he'd wanted to say since forever, stroking her face softly.

"So uh, what d'ya say we kiss again?" she asked, slightly nervously.

"Go on then," he grinned. "Just one more."

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**Note:** OK, I know its quite impulsive. I was drunk when I came up with this sotry.


End file.
